


Inside Out And a Bit Further

by the_sharpest_thorn



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Johnny is a dirty old man, Morning Sex, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Smut, Spit Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:08:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28002159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_sharpest_thorn/pseuds/the_sharpest_thorn
Summary: Johnny wakes up ambushed by heat. He can feel sweat building up under his shirt, with a bulge sticking up without his consent. He turns to the person next to him. Soft morning light comes through the barely open shutters, it drips over his companion’s skin. Shines on them as they stir in their sleep. His eyes soften at the sight. Their light snore and their pink mouth. The drool building up on their pillow. Jesus fuck, he thinks, awestruck.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand & Female V, Johnny Silverhand/Female V, Johnny Silverhand/V
Comments: 20
Kudos: 591





	Inside Out And a Bit Further

**Author's Note:**

> i blame all of this on my mutuals and their enabling of my angst conversations/dirty smut.
> 
> enjoy yall!
> 
> (also, this is non-canon. don't care. let's just pretend Johnny has his body back and V, maybe a bit traumatized and hurt, has her mind back too and they both said, "let's live together!! and have lots of dirty sex!!!!!! and just be in love and happy!!!!!!!!!!")

Johnny wakes up ambushed by heat. He can feel sweat building up under his shirt, with a bulge sticking up without his consent. He turns to the person next to him. Soft morning light comes through the barely open shutters, it drips over his companion’s skin. Shines on them as they stir in their sleep. His eyes soften at the sight. Their light snore and their pink mouth. The drool building up on their pillow. _Jesus fuck_ , he thinks, awestruck. If Johnny still wrote songs, he’d write one about this. It’s like staring at a painting, but something so intimate and intricate it would be a travesty to be admired by anyone other than the painter and its muse. He sighs. The former rockstar remembers the hard lines under her eyes, from before, the heavy tension on her shoulders; as if they had the whole world to save. As if it was their responsibility. _As if any were deserving of saving_ , he thinks, bitterly. _As if they deserved to have you as their savior._

He caresses her hair. Brushes lips over her forehead.

Even now, it is a rare occurrence to catch them like this. Unoccupied. Relaxed. Safe. V fights him every step of the way. Like she's still in that dreaded war zone, having to watch over her shoulder, with him yelling and antagonizing — making it worse. Johnny no longer wants to make it worse. He hasn’t had the urge to make it worse for a very long time. Not since the day V stared at that bottle of red pills and thought to herself, _Maybe I’ll just get it over with_. Panic had surged Johnny like a bullet through the skull. In a rapid flash, he had snatched the bottle out of her hands and threw it out the window. Only to look back at distraught brown eyes, confused, in shock. With that damned bottle glitching back into her hands.

“Don’t do it,” he had begged. “Don’t you dare fucking do it.” Johnny had gotten on his knees, hands shaking, hovering over her body, not sure if he was allowed to touch, to hold her. And he had bowed his head, voice wavering. “Please. Please, don’t fucking do it. Please.”

Then, V had done the most unexpected thing. She had embraced him. Kissed the top of his head till he no longer felt like he was falling apart.

“V,” he whispers, across her skin. Leaves little pecks as he finally reaches her ear. “Baby, you awake?”

She grumbles, mutters something into the pillow. But her hand tangles in his shirt.

“What time is it? Jesus,” V yawns, stretches her limbs across the bed— their bed. She stares back at him, eyes tingling with a bit of mischief. “You feeling lonely, Johnny?”

A wide grin grows across his face. “What can I say,” he caresses her left cheek, gentle with the scarred tissue. “I look at you and I just—”

“Get a big massive boner?” She finishes for him, rather eloquently.

Johnny traps V between his arms, lips returning back to her skin. Her blind white eye closes. But the hand on his shirt begs him to get closer. He does. Till he’s between her legs, rubbing himself off with the friction. “Johnny,” she says, a bit higher than usual. His teeth close over her neck. “You fucking tease.” He chuckles at that. Then drifts a hand down below. It gets under her top. He kisses her neck as he finds her left breast, softly touching her skin. V’s breath hitches as he goes over her nipple. “Johnny,” she says again, this time begging. Johnny knows the difference.

He unbuttons the shirt, caressing any spot of skin he can find, then lifts up just so he can take a good look at her. V is shivering. Maybe from the cold. Maybe from his touch. His ego tells him it’s more of the latter. “Oh, baby,” he says, longing. Her nipples are already so hard. “Were you thinking of me too?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she says, yet giggles as his hands reach her hips and pulls her towards him. “You’re so lucky you’re hot.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

But he’s not talking about being easy eye-candy. He says this while gazing at V’s face, her smile spreading across her olive skin, eyes twinkling with something more than lust and humor. _I’m so goddamn lucky._ The former rockstar traps her in his arms again. Kisses her on the lips — finally — and gently forces her mouth to open, pushes his tongue inside and feels himself getting harder at the wet sounds they start to make. “Johnny,” she moans into his mouth. “ _Fuck_ , Johnny.” (V doesn’t like to kiss in the morning. Says her breath stinks and doesn’t want to pass it to Johnny. Yet. She always begs for more as soon as his lips brush hers.)

V whimpers as he pulls back. Her lips glister with his saliva, turning red from his touch. And she gazes at him with so much trust and love it makes him wish he could keep her in this bed and never let her leave. Damn the outside world. Damn responsibilities and damn anyone who would try to take this peace from her. But he can’t. He knows he can’t. A realization which leaves him sour. A kind of resentment Johnny is used to. From his rockerboy days, him against the world, against Arasaka. Screaming his rage to crowds of people and getting off on it. It is more tamed now, however. Restrained, he thinks, by the new domestic life. (And perhaps mellowed out by a piece of her inside of him. The part which saw failure and rejection and took it with the same icy approach she examined everything else. His former self would hate it. _Hate_ him. But it is part of her, and so, it is good. Anything from _her_ is good to him.) He kisses her again. Softly this time. A light pressure between mouths, shy and sweet, yet too quick. Johnny moves down, gazing at the nipple he got hard. The former rockstar then glances back, meets her eyes. Smirks. His tongue touches her nipple, swipes it with a long indulgent lick. Then, he sucks it into his mouth. V moans above him, “A-Ah, _ah_ , fuck,” she says, clutching his hair. He lets go. Only to let saliva fall and land on her breast. Johnny smears it over her skin, and moans unabashedly at how shiny it becomes.

“Dirty old man,” V whispers, fondly. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“I really fucking am,” Johnny whispers in return, moving to her other breast and doing the exact same thing. “Fuck. You look so pretty with my spit on your skin.”

“Johnny,” it sounds like she’s trying to chastise him, but there’s a lightness there. It gets him so fucking hard. “ _Papi_ , come on. Get inside me already.”

Johnny grunts into her chest. She knows what that word does to him. “God, you little shit,” he says, and proceeds to pull her panties aside. Two fingers brush over her entrance, playing with her outer lips. “A _wet_ little shit, huh? Thinking about me, sweetheart?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” she pulls on his hair, forces him to look up. “You know I was.”

“Oh, V,” he sighs and comes up. Kisses her. Doesn’t stop until they both need to come up for air. “I was dreamin’ about you too, baby.”

She scoffs, “’Course you were. I’m amazing—”

He slides two fingers inside with barely any resistance. She gasps, reaching for his wrist. Lips tighten and her eyes close shut.

“An amazing _little shit_ is what you are,” Johnny murmurs, licks his lips. He brushes his thumb over her clit, drags his fingers upward. Keeps pressing on those two little spots till V is squirming in his grasp, sweet fucked out sounds forced out. “ _Fuck_ , baby. You really have no idea how gorgeous you look, do you?”

She really doesn’t. Before, yeah, of course she did. She would doll up — his girl. V would put on make up and try at least three different outfits before walking out the door. And God, did she look breathtaking every time she did. His girl knew exactly what she was working with. And she used it to her advantage any chance she got. Johnny thought she was a fucking knock out. Before, and now. He _knows_ her. Knows V inside and out and perhaps a bit further than that. He knows she still can’t stand the blind eye. Nor is she a fan of the scarred skin. She does her best not to look too much at a mirror — ten minutes, tops, barely putting any kind of make up on — and brushes off any type of physical compliment Johnny makes. V tries to pass it off as humor, says, “I thought you said I was too uptight before? Aren’t you happy I’m not a little airhead anymore?” Which makes him angry. No, he is not happy. He is not happy she feels miserable about her appearance. And he is definitely not fucking happy V brings out his past actions to excuse her self-hating behavior. Yes. He knows. Johnny knows her too well. All of this is a blow to his girl; whose father ingrained in her head that perfection was the only thing she could achieve. The only thing she could ever be. But she’s still amazing. Of course she is. (Even if she doesn’t see it — can’t see it.) Johnny still finds her so beautiful, so fucking pretty and brilliant and amazing and gorgeous, the first thing he wanted when he woke up was to have her. V is fucking stunning. And he’ll take any opportunity to remind her of that fact.

“Johnny—”

“If I wasn’t a jealous asshole, I’d show you off. Hmm, can you imagine? Me, with my mouth over your pussy, and you singing to a crowd of nosy fuckers. Eating you out, juices running down my chin, you, legs spread open wide, by the corner of some club, with people watching. Getting so fucking turned on by the sight of you. Fucking wishin' they were me. Oh, did you twitch a little, V? Does the thought of me fucking you, showing how pretty you are, how wet, how loud you can be, to some undeserving fucks, drive you up the wall?”

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” she whimpers. It’s still dark, but from the small glimmer of light he can spot how flushed her face is. Her cheeks are red as her mouth. And sweat clings to her hair. Johnny loves it. His fingers gush with more of her wetness, moving up and down at the sound of her moans. Yes. _Yes_ , this is what he wants. This is his urge now. To make his girl feel so fucking good all her walls crumble at his feet, and V is left with no other option but to accept his love. “Fuck, Johnny, _please_. Papi, _papi_ , come on—”

He shushes her. Coming forward to kiss the scarred cheek. Johnny can’t help himself, he loves her like this. (Loves her.)

The former rockstar pulls his pants down, grips his hard cock, thumb brushing a speck of precum over his slit. “Sweetheart,” Johnny moans, and circles his cock over her clit. V gasps. Tangles her legs over his hip in response. The one dark eye shines from the window glow. He could swear its true shade was pitch black. And his girl is smirking up at him, running her tongue over her teeth. “Fuck. You’re beautiful.”

“I know,” she says. Her hand goes back to his hair and pulls him close. She bites her lower lip, hesitates. It’s hard for V to ask for things. For so long, she took care of herself. Even when he lived in her head, the woman wouldn’t take any advice, she always knew best, always knew what to buy and where to go and who not to cross. Her actions might end up being awful self-destructive decisions. But they were hers to make. To ask—… To _beg_ for something, it is not in his girl’s caliber. Or, to be more exact, she’s not used to asking for what she truly wants. But she’s getting there. He’s helping her get there. “Kiss me while you’re fucking into me,” she begs, so fucking sweetly, it makes him feel a certain type of way. “Please, Johnny.”

“Baby,” he says, forehead touching hers. He would do anything she’d ask. Anything.

Johnny closes the distance, mouth lightly brushing against V’s, becoming a harder caress as he pushes inside. When his girl whimpers into his mouth, he slips his tongue inside too, reaching hers and opening her from both ends — as it should be — as it was, with Johnny knowing her every thought and action and how she truly felt behind that cold bitch mask. They kiss and bite and spit is exchanged between the two. He doesn’t really give a shit. In fact, he might have a bit of a kink about it. Johnny thinks its his own, from his greedy and gluttonous days of fucking groupies, but it’s more intense here. With her. Johnny doesn’t just want his spit on her. He wants her to swallow it, to blend with her own, with her own juices, skin, hair, he wants to fucking be a part of her. Fucking inside and out. He’s been called possessive before (a hypocritical possessive asshole by Alt) but only now he’s starting to get a sense of his own cravings. _Is that part of me in you?_ He thinks, wishes to ask. _Are you just as desperate to become one again?_ But Johnny does not dare utter those words. He’s also a coward when it comes to the matters of sensitive emotion (eloquently yelled by Alt).

Johnny breaches her then. He has her between his arms, with her body clinging to him, whimpering and begging. He almost comes right there and then. The former rockstar forces himself not to. _I’m gonna make you come on my cock_ , he thinks. And for a second, Johnny imagines they’re still connected. That V knows exactly what he’s thinking and arches her back in response. That she pulls on his lower lip at the idea. Perhaps she does. Because they know each other — inside out and a bit further. Sometimes, his girl gazes at him, with such a serene expression it tightens at his heartstrings; says something almost as a reply to his thoughts. It leaves Johnny unbalanced. It makes him want to lower his head in her lap and just — _be_. Exist without any need for words. Just a mere glance and _ta-da_ — each of them knew what the other wanted. He bottoms out and they both groan. “V, baby, _sweetheart_ , fuck,” he says, voice husky, almost out of breath. “God, I fucking love being inside you.” He does. It’s a warm embrace, so fucking good and too much that it eats Johnny from the inside, leaves him with this sense of exhilaration, joy, a fucking epiphany. Leaves him with just his girl. His _V_. His Antonia. “Oh, _Antonia_. Fucking hell. Baby, baby—”

“Johnny,” and she grips him from the inside. Johnny chokes. “ _Fuck me_ , Johnny. Do it, papi. _Please_.”

He does as she asks. Grabs her hips and starts fucking her. Gentle, at first, with slow lazy thrusts, looking down at her lustful expression, eyes soft and mouth hanging open. His thumb brushes off the spit at the corner of her lip. Then, drifts down, forcing her tongue out and slipping inside. V closes her lips around his finger. Sucks on it. Johnny starts to fuck her harder. He quickens his pace, clutching her hip with his other hand. Yet, Johnny quickly loses control. He keeps getting distracted by her. His girl is just making these cute little sounds. All muffled by his finger in her mouth, but, he can still spot the whimpers and the high pitch moans. He knows her that fucking well. The wetness from their thrusts grows louder — Johnny is so fucking close. _I’m gonna make you come now_ , he thinks, a bit mad. He lets go of her hip and his fingers hover over her clit. _Can you hear me, baby? I’m gonna make you come so hard you’re gonna see fucking stars._ Johnny touches her clit, brushing on the left side, quickly, but careful not to be too rough — just like she likes it, just like she did in the shower or in bed, thinking he wasn’t there, yet, very conflicted, hoping he was, hoping Johnny was fucking there, right next to her, watching her get off, imagining his hand over hers, kissing the back of her neck, whispering awful dirty things in her ear — “That’s it, baby, that’s it,” he moans, feeling her getting tighter, nibbling on his thumb, eyes almost closing and toes curling, “Fuckin’ come for me, V. Let me feel you come around me. Fuck. _Antonia_. Please, fucking come around me. Antonia—”

She does. Arches her back off the bed and bites down on his finger, clutches her cunt so tight Johnny stops breathing for a second. He thinks back to the moment V told him she trusted him. Johnny comes. Hard. Shouts to the ceiling. Almost chokes on his own spit.

Beneath him, V shivers, mouth still trembling. He fucks her aftershocks, still clinging to the pleasure of his own orgasm. In between thrusts, the former rockstar whispers something embarrassing, like how she’s the most perfect thing he’s ever fucked, or that he loves her. Something of the sort.

They both come down their highs embracing each other. Breathing heavily over each other’s skin. His red nibbled thumb sliding off her mouth, her legs finally falling onto the bed, mouths kissing and licking whatever skin they can find.

“ _Cariño_ ,” V says, humor in her voice. “I think you may have a fetish.”

“For you?” Johnny pecks her forehead, finding the energy to lift himself up. “Fuck yeah I do.”

She squints at him. Which makes him laugh, brushing the sweaty strands of hair off her face. His girl looks so beautiful like this. Freshly fucked and limbs loosen and so open. Johnny kisses her, sweet and unhurriedly. V lets out a soft sound. His cock stirs. _Yeah_ , he decides. _Guess I have a fetish._

“Ugh,” she scoffs, pushing him back. “I need a shower before we have another go, Johnny.”

He grins, “Another go, sweetheart? Who knew there was such a vixen hiding beneath the pretty _principessa_ —”

Her hand reaches for his pillow and throws it at his face. He laughs, tossing it somewhere above his shoulder. Johnny reaches for his girl again, who squirms in his grasp and shouts how much of an asshole he is, but doesn’t try to escape. V goes easily under him. Whispers his name as his mouth travels downward. Her legs close over his head. Yes. Johnny could die a happy man, right there and then.


End file.
